


Bobcats, Snow, and Some Particularly Cool Ice

by NikauRifka



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Flashback, I think this is something, a very big bobcat, set in that time between the H2Woah deboggle and the Billy Arc and also six years in the past
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2019-10-10 20:39:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17433152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikauRifka/pseuds/NikauRifka
Summary: Kirby attempts to kick off a new career, and finds himself cryptid hunting. What he finds, however, isn't exactly a cryptid.Or, The First NPC Flashback





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things we know about Kirby: late 20's, doesn't like to be in the limelight, is a painter, (probably sketches, I mean come on), has a caffeine addiction, and doesn't believe in Bigfoot. I missin anything? Also, does Ned live in the Cryptonomica or what?  
> Things we know about Jake: super rad, very good boy, X games. Please tell me Griffin what cryptid he is...

Snowflakes flickered in the gentle winter sunlight, fluttering around pine trees and building up on steep sloped rooftops prepared to slough off their yearly weight. It draped another layer over the road and onto the snow banks pushed to the side from the last time a snowplow was needed. Kepler was a new landscape chock full of artistic inspiration, especially when it was like this, and yet instead of focusing on the natural beauty of it all, snapping a photo or otherwise preserving the imagery, Kirby was trekking though the snow in his new winter boots he had purchased with the money from his latest commission, trying to make the money for his next one.

Of everything it could have been, the first painting he sold in Kepler was a portrait of Bigfoot. He had never given much thought as to the existence of such creatures, but he had grown up in West Virginia, and had certainly heard talk of cryptids his entire life. Naturally, he was inclined to believe it.

His employer had provided a more than decent pay, especially considering the shambling stature of the shop he appeared to work for, and amongst conversation Kirby had let slip that he was looking for a career in journalism. The man - Ned Chicane was how he introduced himself - offered another fine sum to write up something that could promote his small business. He'd wanted something exciting, something eye-catching, something that was definitely a tourist trap. Kirby hadn't realized he meant fake a cryptid story, and had instead grabbed his camera and a notebook and headed out to the Monongahela forest in search of a cryptid story.

He thought about it more than just wandering into a forest blindly looking for Bigfoot, of course. He'd asked around town, tracked down the most recent sightings, and followed the bread crumb trail to an area in the woods where an abnormally large bobcat was said to have been seen. In all ways Kirby could see it, it was a perfect start to a new and hopeful career. As a young writer in his early twenties, relishing in the first years of adulthood and new to the small town, with poor high school grades and no college degree, he was well aware it would be difficult, but he saw this now as the beginning of something entirely.

The spot of the sighting was comfortingly close to the town, close enough that he could look up and see the metallic shine of some of the taller rooftops just barely obscured by the taller trees. It was a sort of clearing, covered in inconsistent hills and conservatively dispersed flora. Kirby had gotten word from at least two completely unrelated people who claimed to have seen this large bobcat. He felt pretty assured about the whole thing.

Then he'd been wandering the area for a good thirty minutes and his fingers had gone red, numb, and cold and his new boots didn't feel quite as warm and waterproof as they did before. He propped himself against a tree, attempting to dig the ice out from where it had fallen into his boot when he walked through the areas where the snow rose the highest. His other hand curled into his coat sleeve in defense of the biting air, and he knew he ought to get going, but leaving so soon felt like a surrender to this bobcat story, and he wasn't even close to wanting to do that yet. Tired, cold, and defiant, he packed the snow at the base of the bare limbed tree with his boot and sat down, wincing when the snow made contact with his jeans and he silently wished he could have gotten a pair of snow pants along with the boots.

He glanced around the clearing despondently, searching once again for any sign of an abnormally large feline beast behind any of the tall rolling hills or randomly placed trees. Finding none, he snapped a few pictures of the evening sun, just so his excursion wouldn't be entirely pointless, when he heard the telltale sound of feet packing down snow in an audible crunch that echoed through the otherwise silent landscape.

Hoping to see a large cat - literally any type of cat at all, a house cat would do, just something, please - he perked up instantly and turned toward the sound. Instead of a cat, however, he turned to see a young man in a bright red and blue jacket with unbelievably yellow hair and thin black sunglasses, hiking up the hill with a snowboard tucked under his armpit.

He looked as equally surprised to find another person there as Kirby felt, but he wiped the shock off his face and replaced it with a charming smile and a wave.

"Yo! You lost?" He asked, catching Kirby off-guard.

"Uh," Kirby said, embarrassingly unprepared for any human interaction at the moment. "No," he finished, standing and brushing snow from the back of his jeans, not sounding entirely sure of it himself.

"You sure? Because I've never seen you in town before and this ain't exactly the most tubular place to hang, man."

His voice resonated with a gentle Virginian twang, not nearly as prominent as Kirby's own and a clear sign that he hadn't been born in the immediate area, but had spent a long time there. It caused an unfamiliar jolt of insecurity to run through him at the thickness of his own. Then he remembered where he was, and that he wasn't the one wearing neon and holding a snowboard painted with flames in the middle of an Appalachian forest, and he felt a little bit more like he was in the right place and this guy wasn't, and not the other way around.

Kirby spent a full sixty seconds before he realized he needed to say something, and took another ten to figure out what to say. Awkwardly, he gestured to the camera strapped around his neck.

"Photography?" The guy asked, eyebrows raised and sounding either amused or deeply interested.

Kirby nodded. "Well, not exactly," he mumbled, stumbling over the sound of his own voice. He tried to think of the best way to say, "I'm looking for a very big bobcat," and landed on simply, "I'm looking for a cat."

"Oh," the guy said, as if something just clicked for him, "are you local, then?"

"No, no," Kirby stammered, trying to equip himself to have a normal conversation, "I mean. Yeah, I live here, just moved here two weeks ago. What I mean is, it's not my cat, I'm looking for a, uh... You know what, nevermind, it doesn't matter."

The guy laughed, full and attractive in a way that did not help Kirby's attempts to calm his nerves. He had never been very talented in the art of socializing, even when he was prepared for it, but he was especially bad at it when the person he was interacting with was a cute guy he was just for the first time meeting, and the awkward setting was just the icing on the cake.

"Just moved here, huh?" And, to Kirby's utter astonishment, he extended a gloved hand, offering. Kirby accepted, and gave him a brief, limp handshake as he said, "I'm Jake. Jake Coolice."

"Uh, Kirby," he replied, feeling his face heat up despite the biting cold, "I'm looking for a bobcat."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all really think that bobcat was a part of the first bombom?
> 
> Wait, no, I am not saying I think that bobcat is Jake Coolice. No, I'm saying that I think it's the Tailypo.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is heavily based on my own personal writing moods, which consist entirely of writers block and forgetting my body has needs. As a writer, those are the only two emotions I ever have. Though shoving pizza in my face while trying to type one handed could possibly be another.

It was warm inside of the Pizza Hut, and Kirby was not thinking about his first winter in Kepler as he attempted to avoid getting pizza grease all over his MacBook while working tirelessly on the best story the Lamplighter had ever seen. The Bigfoot vs. Bobcat video had been a sure-fire hit, bringing in a new level of profit to the Cryptonomica and, by extent, to Kirby's pride and joy that is the one-page weekly cryptidzine known to the folks of Kepler, West Virginia as The Lamplighter. And all of that story was great.

But this new one was going to knock that one right out of the park.

By description from an anonymous submission to the Lamplighter blog, a wendigo had been spotted at the Mount Kepler Ski Trails Park and Resort: That Was Also Fun, apparently snowboarding, and they got footage of it.

The video submitted featured an unfocused image of a thin, lanky, and almost spectral creature, that appeared to be digging around in the snow beside what could only be assumed to be a crashed snowboard. The video was shaky and from a distance, and Kirby got the sense that whoever had been pulling this grift had maybe gone a bit over the top with the poor videography as they tried to make it appear real, but then the image focused and the creature - and damn, that costume was good - looked up. From where it stood nearly 50 feet away, Kirby could still make out its pupil-less ice blue eyes trained directly at the camera lens. Not a second later, it had darted over the hill and was gone.

Kirby could only marvel at the talent and dedication that went into filming such a convincing video, and almost as soon as he had received it, he had already started typing up the latest edition of his magazine.

He'd been working on it for three consecutive days, at first pausing only to eat or knock another cola out of Ned's old RC vending machine or sleep only when his body wouldn't allow him not to, and now not even for that. He cursed at his inability to type one handed as he shoved a bite of pizza into his mouth, eyes trained on the screen to the point of exhaustion.

He briefly glanced up as the bell above the door jingled and a gust of cold air swept across the floor. The silence broken only by the muffled sound of kitchen clatter was shattered as a rowdy group of guys all clad in brightly colored sports jackets cluttered into the mostly empty pizza restaurant. Pizza Hut was one of the few places in Kepler with decent free wifi, and the uneventful scenery of Ned's hyped up tourist trap got boring after awhile, and besides, Kirby was hungry. But as these boys entered the building, rambling loudly about the X-Games or something-other, he lost his train of thought and his once quick and assured typing slowed to an uninspiring pace until it stopped altogether.

Kirby glared - keeping his gaze low as to not assemble any form of unnecessary eye contact with any of them - in the general direction of the table they settled down at that was horrifyingly close to the smaller one that he had set himself up at.

He recognized the boys, of course. He hadn't gone seven years living in Kepler without ever hearing word of the Hornets. Honestly, it struck him as odd to have something so much like a gang in such a small and rustic town. They weren't completely gang-like, really, they were mostly just chaotic sports fanatics who were also assholes, but again, they were a lot like a gang for such a small town.

As they ordered two large pizzas, all meats please, and sat back in their neon jackets filling the room with sound, Kirby squinted at the computer screen like he could make it fill with words automatically by beating it in a staring contest. He quickly lost to the screen, because he hadn't gotten more than 6 hours of sleep since he began the article three days prior and also because computers don't blink, and he set his forehead exasperatedly upon the keyboard.

The constant banter at the table beside him ebbed in his mind and letters appeared scrambled across his computer screen, and then he realized exactly what the story was missing.

Kirby used the personal accounts and opinions of better-known residents of Kepler whenever he could, and it'd been annoying him that he didn't have one for this story, but there was never anyone who instantly came to mind who often visited the Mount Kepler Ski Trails Park. The Hornets, however, were ski and snowboard _fanatics_ , and if anyone had a personal account to add in here, it would be one of them. Of course, that meant talking to them, which would not be an entirely fun time for himself, but sometimes you have to make sacrifices to produce good media.

He waited until a low part of the conversation, which took awhile. Somehow these guys were capable of spewing out unprompted conversation for hours on end.

"Excuse me?" Kirby said politely, catching at the first moment of silence between them and whisking by the short distance to stand beside their table.

One of the four glanced over at him - and really bless their soul, because Kirby did not have the energy to try that again - and shushed the rest of their friends with a silent hand gesture. Their jacket was less colorful than the others, adorned with black and yellow stripes.

"Uh, hi," Kirby said awkwardly as they all turned to stare at him, "I write a, uh, magazine. A popular one, actually. Locally, that is. You mighta heard of it."

"Oh, wait," one of them interrupted, laughing, "you do that one about Bigfoot? Oh, I love that one!"

The one in the bee jacket shushed them again. "Sorry about him. Now what did you need?" They asked, surprisingly calm and polite in comparison to their rowdy friends. It was strikingly familiar.

"Oh. I know you," Kirby said before really thinking about it, "you're, uh, Hollace, right?"

"Oh, you're that kid who did that thing about that bobcat, right? What was it... Kurtz?"

"Um, it's Kirby, actually, but that's fine."

"So what did you need, then?"

Kirby sucked in an anxious breath, thinking back to his and Hollace's first meeting. How he was not fond of that experience. Really, Hollace was a delight to be around. Kirby had absolutely no problem with Hollace.

But he did not like Keith, who was sitting leaned back beside Hollace, a white SnapBack shadowing his face as he glared lethally at Kirby.

"I, uh," Kirby began, completely unintentionally locking eyes with the man and instantly forgetting how to unlock them, "wanted to ask you about a wendigo."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took a bit of liberties with the characters of the Hornets, but they don't have a wiki page, so


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't suppose to actually be anything, so bear with me as I shamble to find a plot line here.

"Got plenty of those out here," Jake laughed, propping his board up on the snow and leaning casually against it.

"Well that's what I'm doing out here," Kirby shrugged, "Are you gonna tell me what  _you're_ doing?"

Jake gestured at the snowboard he leaned against with an amused smirk.

"Oh, right"

"It's not as busy here as it is up on the slopes. By that I mean you're the first cat I've seen out here, uh, pretty much ever."

Kirby opened his mouth to reply, and was met with a sudden burst of cold wind whipping at his skin and sending a shiver down his spine.

"Not to cut our talk short or nothing," he began, eager to get back to some place with heaters or insulation, "but I was actually about to head on back to town."  
"Oh, same here, just finished shredding some gnarly powder, now it's time to get my grub on!"

Kirby nodded, not sure how else to respond to that, and turned in the direction of the rooftops. Jake trotted up beside him and they both began walking the mazed trail back.

Kirby braced himself against the wind as they made their way out of the clearing, into the forest, and quickly out of it again.

Once within the grasp of full civilization again, Jake informed him that he was going to find a place to eat, and that he would see him around. With feelings jitteriness inconsistently between embarrassment and giddiness, Kirby got on the longer route to the Cryptonomica, the chintzy museum where he supposed he now worked.

There, he set up his MacBook on an old TV tray and began typing up the article. He recapped reported sightings, wrote in that he had visited the spot and found nothing, then hit backspace a few times thinking better of it. Then he sat back and read it over. He had never been more upset with a piece of writing in his life. It was short, uneventful, and certainly not what this Ned guy was paying him to write.

He sighed, shut his laptop, and headed out.

He shouldn't have been surprised to run into that snowboarding, neon clad kid again when he went back out to the hill-speckled clearing two days later, but he honestly wasn't even thinking about him, not at all definitely, until he caught sight of him carving down one of the steeper slopes.

Once at the bottom, he skidded to a stop, kicking up snow as he locked eyes with Kirby, who was standing there looking awkward and guilty.

"Looking for your bobcat again?" He asked with a smile.

"Yep... You know, I was gonna say I wasn't expecting to see you here again, but that was probably terrible judgement," Kirby said by way of greeting, trying to bury himself in the warm synthetic fur of his hood that pillowed around his shoulders in defense of the cold.

"So, tell me about this cat, then. What's all the hype that made it worth it to come out here twice?"

"I mean, you've come out here at least twice, yourself," Kirby quipped, avoiding the question.

"I'm in my element. You, on the other hand," Jake said, gesturing vaguely in Kirby's direction, "just look cold."

Kirby didn't quite understand how this guy  _wasn't_  cold, wearing nothing but a thin windbreaker and some stylish snow pants.

"You haven't happened to see a bobcat out here lately, have you?" Kirby asked awkwardly, "Like a really big one. Like, maybe cougar size?"

"Shit, man, you know that bobcats don't get that big, right?"

"Well, yeah, that's why I'm looking for it."

"You mean to tell me you've come out here at least twice now to find something that has never been proven to exist?"

Kirby nodded, a bit reluctantly.

Jake was silent for a second, thinking the information over, then he barked out a laugh. "Oh! Are you working for Victoria, then?" He said.

Kirby only vaguely recalled the name that Ned had used to refer to the woman who owned the Cryptonomica. He'd never actually talked to her, despite the countless times he'd seen her at the museum. It was always Ned who dealt with the hiring and paying end of the arrangement. "I s'pose so," he said, shrugging.

"I always liked her, unpopular opinion here in Kepler. Anyways," Jake trailed, and in one fluid motion kicked his snowboard up and to his hand. "I'm headed to The Little Dipper, you know the grill just outside of town? Wanna come? We can talk more about that cat of yours or whatever."

Kirby blinked, taken aback by the invitation. He'd offered the last time, but Kirby had declined without really thinking about it, mind focused on the article he had to write. This time, however, he was less disappointed in his findings because he hadn't spent half an hour in the freezing cold, and he definitely thought about the question.

Was he asking him out on a date? His mind went to this only because he very much would have liked to go on a date with this guy, but upon further analysis, he realized it was probably just a friend thing. Which confused him even further, and made him wonder if inviting strangers you met in the woods to come have pizza with you was just a normal thing here.

"Sure," he stammered, taking a beat too long to answer. And as they walked back to town, Kirby was not thinking about his dry bobcat article that, at this rate, had no chance of kicking off his writing career. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh ho this is short, woops

A wendi-whatnow?" one of the Hornets asked, crinkling their nose.

"A, uh, wendigo," Kirby reiterated, "it's a creature from Native American culture, said to be a man-eating monster. Depictions vary from culture to culture, but it's most often described as a gaunt, skeletal creature. Also sometimes called a windigo, or a wintekowa. It's said that you can become one by eating human flesh, or by being in contact with one for too long. Some cultures held ceremonies during times of famine to prevent-"

"Right, right," Keith interrupted, "what did you want to ask  _us_ then? Because it seems you're already an expert on the matter." He had his arms crossed, leaned back and balanced precariously on the back two legs of his chair.

Without another word, Kirby darted back to his table, retrieved his laptop, and pulled up the wendigo video. He skipped past the first thirty seconds, which consisted mostly of heavy breathing and shaking the camera at the ground, and he positioned the screen so all the Hornets could see it.

Hollace rested their chin in their hands and watched with adept interest, Keith hardly spared a glance, looking annoyed, and the other two appeared well-entertained. Kirby shifted on his feet nervously.

"What am I even looking at?" one of the unidentified Hornets asked.

"Um," Kirby began, "the latest cryptid sighting. I've identified it as a wendigo. Really it could be a whole number of things: a wechuge, a new cryptid entirely, a human in a costume... Anyway, I was wondering if I could get your word in, since you spend a lot of time at the, uh, Kepler Ski Trails Park."

"Yeah, we're good, kid, thanks," Keith said, making a shooing gesture. Kirby scowled at the added 'kid'. He was use to it from Ned and Ned's recently close friend, Duck, but he did not welcome it from a guy who was, if not the same age, younger than him.

"Keith," Hollace sighed, looking well like a parent with a backtalking child, "come on, be nice. We haven't seen anything like that at the Ski Trails." They directed the last part at Kirby, gesturing to the beast frozen on the computer screen. "Maybe you could ask around the staff there, or some tourists," they offered.

Kirby nodded, and mumbled a quick, "thanks anyway," before scooping up his laptop and returning to his table. Forecasts predicted he was headed to the resort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I made Keith unnecessarily salty


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made Kirby very much like myself in the sense that whenever anyone asks anything about a cryptid I suddenly just spew all the information that I know about said cryptid as if that was what they were asking for.
> 
> Did a bit of retconning in chapter 3, what with the newly established locale The Little Dipper. They're not going to Giovanni's anymore, this works so much better

"So, you're last name is really Coolice?"

The two were seated across from each other in a booth with thinly stuffed sticky red vinyl seats situated directly beside the front doors to The Little Dipper. The dive bar was nearly empty, devoid of customers save for a lone man seated at the bar scanning over a newspaper.

"Yeah, it's a family name," Jake replied with a slight hesitance that slipped right by Kirby.

A waiter had already stopped by to take their orders and menus. Jake requested a meal with an overly complicated title for a bacon cheeseburger without so much as a glance at the menu, and Kirby ordered a Royal Crown Cola, because of course they sell RC here, this is West Virginia, come on. But then Jake insisted he try the loaded fries. After a grimace at the menu description of the appetizer, he added that on as well.

"So what's got you interested in these bobcats?"

"Well, Ned- or, uh, Victoria wanted me to write up something to make her museum sound interesting to tourists," Kirby said around the rim of his glass. He was more nervous than he would have admitted, not just because of the cute guy sitting across from him, but because he had hardly gotten out since he'd moved to the area. "Some people were claiming they'd seen a giant bobcat in that area, so I thought I'd check it out. Really, just think how cool it would be if I got an actual picture of a cryptid."

Jake laughed, "You're writing about cryptids, then?"

"Yeah, you know, like, uh, Bigfoot, Loch Ness Monster, Mongolian Death Worm, the Tatzelwurm," Kirby listed, blushing when he noticed the amused way Jake was watching him. He wasn't trying to flaunt his extensive knowledge on cryptids in anyway, but it did usually come off that way for sure. "I mean I could list them all out, but I think you know what I'm talking about."

"And does the bobcat have any cool name like Tatzelwurm or whatever the heck you just said, or do you just call 'em giant bobcats?"

"Well giant bobcats aren't exactly a registered cryptid or whatever. It's more of a hyper-local thing, really. Or at least this is the first time I'm hearing of it. You know, one possibility I've been thinking 'bout though, is it could be the Tailypo."

"Taily... Po?" Jake said, cocking his head to the side, as if it was something he should know and wasn't sure why he didn't.

"It's a, uh," Kirby began, "large catlike creature with a stubbed or missing tail, most famously featured in a children's storybook where a man eats its tail and then to get back at him it tears him apart in his sleep. There's actually been quite a few sightings in West Virginia, and many people have tried to debunk them as being bobcats."

"Those are some stellar kids books you've been reading, I gotta tell ya," Jake said, laughing like Kirby had just delivered a hilarious punchline, "You know, if you got a picture of one a those, you'd be famous, man. If anyone believed it was real, that is."

"Do you believe in any of it?"

He looked a bit nervous for a moment, which in turn made Kirby even more so. But then he recomposed himself and said, "Well I s'pose I'd be a fool not to."

The conversation died down after that as the two realized they had little common ground. Jake talked on for a bit about some sport that Kirby didn't know a thing about as a server set down some plates and refilled their waters.

Kirby eyed his fries over suspiciously as the front doors swung open, admitting a cold breeze and two young people who couldn't be any older than 19. They strolled over to the bar where one ordered two beers, miraculously without ID, and the other glanced around the dining area, looking over at Jake, who was busy scarfing down a cheeseburger nearly the size of his face, and then over at Kirby, who was marveling at the surprisingly good taste of the horrifyingly loaded French fries.

They tapped their compatriot, who glanced over at the booth as the bar tender set two beers down on the counter behind them. They grabbed both of the beers, handed one to their friend, and made their way over to the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me listening to the first thirty seconds of episode 21: Griffin what the fUCK
> 
> I'm sitting on the edge of my seat, just waiting for him to blow this whole fic wide open. Feel great about my spitballed Hornet characterization after that though, so that's cool
> 
> Speaking of new episodes, this might go on a hiatus for a little, just since the current arc is Hornets-centric and I want to try my best not to clash too much with canon. Don't want to headcanon too much in here and then have it go completely against that, like how we might find out what Jake is and that could so easily destroy this whole thing I've been working up here that he is a wendigo


	6. Chapter 6

"Now what in tarnation is that thing?" Exclaimed Eugene, the old man who tended the bar at the Mount Kepler Ski Trails Resort, as he watched the video of the nightmarish creature prowling around on the ski trails.

Kirby himself was a little more in awe of the video each time he watched it. It was realistic in a way only the Bigfoot video Ned had feigned a few months back had been (and really he had no idea who Ned had gotten to play that bobcat.) Everything was fine tuned, down to the way the creature's nine-point antlers extended from its forehead, to its hollowed eyes and stringy, pale hair. It was almost majestic, in a terrifying, corpse-like way, with its snowy colors and long limbs. Kirby had to remind himself that monsters like this don't really exist.

"I believe it's a wendigo, a creature from Native American lore who-" Kirby began on instinct.

"What are you doing showing that 'round here? You're gonna make us lose customers!" Eugene said, "now if you wanted to ask me about aliens, you shoulda just asked."

"Um, cryptids, actually," Kirby corrected, "I just wanted to know if you've seen anything like this before 'round here."

"Now I don't go out on the slopes much. Can barely carve that bunny hill with these old bones, but I'll tell you what. I got a story you can put into that newspaper of yours," Eugene said, "It was Tuesday night, November 15th, 1988. I was out walking my dog Brackston, when-"

"You've told me this story before, Eugene," Kirby sighed.

"I have, huh? Well I ain't never read it in your newspaper," Eugene countered.

"It's in the works," Kirby lied, scooping up his laptop and drifting from the bar. He needed a better approach than this.

It usually wasn't hard to get a quote. Once he showed the 'evidence', folks were usually jumping up and down with false claims just to make themselves feel heard. He glanced around, looking for some fame-hungry tourists.

He folded the screen down and tucked it under his arm, then approached a group of people he didn't recognize from town, who were trudging around in heavy boots and had the cold air around them of someone who had been outside for awhile.

"Excuse me," Kirby said to one of them, a girl who was trying to wipe snow out of her hair with a gloved hand. He hoped one of them would have a story to tell. Tourists were always desperate to be in the papers. "I write a local magazine that works with a museum called the Cryptonomica," he explained with a practiced tone of professionalism, "you might've heard of it. Would you mind if I got a short interview with you and your friends?"

"Of course!" The girl said with no shortage of excitement as she tried and failed to get her friends attentions. "Oh, yeah, I was reading about that little shop in this pamphlet - oh, I don't know what I did with it... Do you write about Bigfoot and stuff?" She asked.

"Something like that," Kirby said, pulling a small notepad and pen from his back pocket. "Have you ever heard of a wendigo?"

"Of course I have! I did a _bunch_ of research on the area's folklore before we came up here. It is SO interesting, don't you think?" The tourist rambled.

' _Classic_ ,' Kirby thought, suppressing a smirk.

"Wait, are you doing a story about a wendigo?"

"Uh, yeah," Kirby said, repositioning his MacBook under his arm, "I actually got video footage of one right here on Mount Kepler."

"YOU got video footage of one? How did you get so close to it? I thought those things were, like, cannibals," The tourist marveled.

"I guess I could show you but they don't really want me scaring tourists away," he said, not talking the time to explain how he'd gotten the video.

"That's alright, I'll take your word for it. So what did you want to ask me then?" She asked.

"Well I don't suppose you've seen anything weird out on the slopes, have you?"

"Well," the tourist began, with the telltale tone of a campfire story, "I did see something..."

Bingo.

"I don't know if it was a wendigo, but I saw these antlers poking out of the brush. I slowed down to get a better look at it, but my friends were already pretty far ahead of me. I figured it was just a deer."

Being what was maybe the most believable story he'd ever gotten from a tourist, he scribbled it all down. After getting her name and slipping in another mention of the Cryptonomica, they parted ways. Kirby stopped at the bar and ordered a hot chocolate to go. Just as he had both his drink and his change in hand, he got up to head out, stopping as two more people entered into resort.

He glanced them over quickly, assuming at once that they were more tourists, until he caught sight of the bright neon getup of one of them, and his mind filled suddenly with a distant memory.

He recognized Jake almost instantly, that is if you didn't count the part where he thought he was a tourist, and didn't recognize the long haired girl standing next to him wearing what looked to be twenty layers of scarves and a slouchy beanie. Despite that, Jake noticed him as he walked by, and he greeted, "hey! Long time no see, how ya been?"

The girl's eyebrows rose and she looked over at her counterpart.

"Uh, good," Kirby stammered, caught off-guard, "just, uh, workin' on a story." He gestured at the computer wedged under his elbow.

"Who's this?" asked the girl beside him with curiosity.

"He writes the Lamplighter," Jake said and a flicker of recognition at the name caught in her eyes. "We went on a date once like six years ago. Dani, Kirby, Kirby, Dani and all that."

Kirby felt something stir in his stomach when Jake threw about the word 'date'. He'd hardly given much thought of Jake ever since then, but now he was remembering well.

"Nice to meet you," Kirby greeted with a smile. He'd gotten remarkably better at talking to people since he'd started this freelancing career.

"You went on a date?" Dani asked, eyes wide with feigned hurt, "Jake, why'd you never tell me about him?"

"It was just one date," Jake said, shrugging, "so what's the story this time, then?" He directed the last part at Kirby.

"Yeah, do we get a sneak peek?" Dani added with a grin.

"Of course," Kirby said, smiling. He set his hot chocolate down on the nearest bench and flipped open his laptop. "Honestly, I don't think I'd a ever published the first Lamplighter of it weren't for Jake," he offered. He pulled up the video and glanced around the lobby. It had grown suddenly empty, conveniently so. He hit play.

Every time he watched the footage he could only muse at the artistic talents that went into something so ambitious. This time, however, it felt different. He picked up on the spooky undertones, and could feel the biting cold of the setting rouse goosebumps across his skin when the creature lifted its icy blue eyes toward the camera lens. He held his breath as it darted quickly out of frame at the end.

He stared emptily at the buffering screen when the video came to an end, and took a few moments to realize the reaction he'd instilled in his fellow viewers.

Dani looked wide-eyed over at Jake, who was staring wide-eyed at the computer screen. Kirby blinked at them both and slowly shut the MacBook.

**Author's Note:**

> Vaguely inspired by One Cool Kid and One Cola Kid (https://archiveofourown.org/works/15786909) by CassleyCanopus. If you like this you should defo go read their work, because it's so much better.


End file.
